


Sticky-Sweet Valentines

by lickmymccracken



Category: My Chemical Romance, The Used
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-12-03 22:34:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/703372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lickmymccracken/pseuds/lickmymccracken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Is it Kurt Cobain’s birthday or something?” Bert asked, dropping another emptyied heart-shaped chocolate's box off the side of the bed, taking enjoyment in his own pun. <br/>"It's Valentine's Day." Gerard replied. </p><p> </p><p>--- Valentine's day fluff</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sticky-Sweet Valentines

“Hmph.”

Gerard had been making small noises like that for almost 30 minutes now, and Bert hadn’t tried to translate them into anything; it was just Gerard-talk. The two men were strewn across the impossibly big hotel bed, stark naked and blissed out. Gerard was doing something with a hotel notepad that was inside the nightstand next to the bible and a black pen. He would grunt and sigh every few minutes, the soft breathy sounds mingling with the sounds of the pen scratching against the paper. Once or twice Bert heard a paper being ripped then saw a white ball get tossed across the room in his peripheral. He heard every time Gerard tapped the end of the pen against his lip or his bottom teeth.

Bert was hunched over on the edge of the bed; opening wrappers to candy that had been given to Gerard from a fan. He hadn’t asked Gerard if he could have it, but he hadn’t told the younger man that he  _couldn’t_ have it, so he took it as an open invitation to dig in. The basket was full of chocolates, little jelly things, and more chocolates. Bert decided that he really liked chocolates after he dropped the second heart-shaped box on the floor next to the bed. “Is it Kurt Cobain’s birthday or something?” Bert asked, taking enjoyment in his own pun. Gerard didn’t answer for a good six minutes, but Bert knew that his brain was especially slow after sex and while he was working on something involving a pen and paper.

“It’s Valentine’s day.” Gerard’s voice was rough and louder than he had expected it to be. That sort of things happened when he didn’t speak for longer than ten minutes. He almost forgot what his voice sounded like he told Bert over a shared joint one day; Bert just nodded understandingly and took another puff. Today they weren’t high (yet), but Gerard was still a little startled by his own voice.

“Oh.” Bert replied, followed by another long expanse of silence. They had been doing that a lot lately, being silent. It wasn’t an “I’m-mad-at-you silence” like Gerard would give Bert after a fight, or when he had unknowingly done something wrong. It was more like a “this-moment-is-perfectly-fine-without-words” moment, and Bert liked that. He liked that Gerard could recognize that, too, and they could both be content in the quiet for a while.

At the bottom of the basket, Bert found a box of Conversation Hearts. He remembered these from when he was in grade school; they were always disgusting, but everyone had a box or ten on Valentine’s Day. The man smiled softly to himself and opened the box, shaking a few hearts into his hand. They were still the same ugly pastel colors that they were all those years ago, with the same stupid corny messages on them. Bert popped one in his mouth. The writing on it was printed wrong so you couldn’t read it. Poor bastard, he thought, you shouldn’t have to go life disfigured and demented, he crunched it between his molars and thought himself a righteous God.

“Done.” Gerard produced from behind Bert. He didn’t know what he was done with, but dumped the rest of the hearts back into the box, keeping on light blue one in his sweat palm, and turned back onto the bed to look at what Gerard was done with. He held out the notepad for Bert to take and sat up, scratching at his chest and then his balls.

The crisp white paper was covered in dark lines, ink blots and smudges. Beneath all the scribbles and splotches was the perfect curvature of Bert’s back, the small lumps of his spine sticking out under the skin. The dark, dirty, tangled mess of his hair draped on his shoulders, showing off a perfect banana curl or two in some places; the dark lines of his tattoo just sticking out from under his arm, leading down to the sharp poke of his hip and the small view of his legs. Bert hadn’t realized he’d been grinning the entire time his eyes scanned the page. His blue eyes flicked back up to Gerard’s own green ones before he tossed the notepad off the side of the bed and tackled Gerard. The older man was used to this by now; Bert’s tackles were just a sign of affection now.

Their lips met for a brief second, a sugary-sweet  _hello_ and then they were gone. Bert sat himself on Gerard’s middle, opening his palm where the blue conversation heart sat, surprisingly still dry in his swampy hand. Bert brought it up to his mouth and licked the back side of it, then pressed it onto Gerard’s forehead.

“What’s it say?” Gerard asked him, raising his eyebrows and trying to look up at it (maybe they were a little high). Bert grinned down at his love.

“True Love.” He  replied and bent over for another sticky sweet kiss from his Valentine.


End file.
